The Top of the World is a Lonely Place
by Ms Writer '95
Summary: America likes to be the Hero. And he likes to be liked. That's not what happens, though. At first, he is oblivious to it. But, as time goes by, he soon realizes that some of his fellow nations are not as friendly as they seem.. It doesn't take long for the cheerful Hero to spiral in a very, very dark place. M-Rated, warnings inside. Short Chapters. WIP.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders (in the future), fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Prologue:

Their unrest with his lingering presence in the conference room had been painfully obvious. Palpable, even. He almost chuckled. _Almost_. Acting clearly wasn't their forte. Then again, they probably thought him too stupid to comprehend what was going on.

Grinning like the fool they perceived him as, America gathered his things and bid the remaining nations farewell. "See y'all next month!" He shouted before stepping out of the room and getting as far away as he could before-

 _"_ _... Childish..."_

 _"_ _... Warmonger..."_

 _"_ _... Spying on us!..."_

 _"_ _... Sticking his nose everywhere..."_

 _"_ _... Better without him..."_

 _"_ _... Idiot fatso..."_

It began.

~o~


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders (in the future), fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Chapter One:

The first time it happened, it was to his face.

With his Boss to his left and an influential Congressman to his right, America heard – absolutely mortified – about how he was an interfering a-hole. Of course, the word hadn't been politely censured. And the other Nation had been drunk. _Obviously_. Or so America had guaranteed both his companions. The American pointed out how the other Nation swayed on his feet and the slight slur to his words. They calmed down considerably after his explanation, and nodded their heads in agreement as if they had also noticed all the telling signs. Encouraged by America, they took a glass of champagne each, and went back to the party.

The American then hunted down the Nation whom had almost caused an International Incident. Right after they had resolved the whole Great War thingy, too! Seething, America ignored all calls to his name – He wanted to know what the other Nation's problem with him had been. Why had he called him an- an... _A-hole_? And in front of his _Boss_! It was fucking _rude_! Not to mention America knew that said Nation needed his money. And the blue-eyed man wasn't so sure he wanted to lend his money to rude people. _Nuh-uh_. "Hey!" America called, recognising the other Nation. He, however, seemed to be in a viler mood, because he barely spared a look towards the American as he stormed out of the ballroom they were all having fun.

Scoffing, America decided it didn't matter, after all. It wasn't like a bunch of Nations thought him an... A-hole, it was just the one. So there was no reason to worry. There was that saying... What was it? You can't please everyone and all that... Right? Something on that line of thought, he wagered.

Feeling light-hearted, America whistled on his way back to his Boss. Some hamburgers and milkshakes (the ones with ice-cream, not whiskey*) later on and he had all but forgotten about the whole ordeal. Unbeknown to him, however, more than a couple of narrowed eyes accompanied his frame the whole time. A few filled with jealousy. And some with fear. Most of them, however, were undeniably dark in nature.

There was a new super-power emerging in their midst. And after this Great War, the Nations were weary and cautious. _That boy_ , they thought, _that boy might be dangerous_. As America laughed obnoxiously of his own joke, he was blissfully ignorant to the increasing distaste his mere presence caused to some.

It only took a little push, for distaste to turn into something worse, though. And Nations weren't known for their balanced feelings, but for either loving or hating something with a passion. Unfortunately for America, it seemed Fortune wasn't smiling his way that day. Because it was the later that many chose. And the American – no more than a boy when compared in age and wisdom to many of them – would learn the hard way that Nations could be as petty as men, and sometimes even _worse_.

~o~


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders (in the future), fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Chapter Two:

The second time, he was taken aback by the crudeness of it.

And later on he would deny vehemently that his eyes watered. It was a speck, _damn it_. A speck! (No matter what some Nations swore by).

America knew that the other Nations would be mad at him. After all, he – almost single-handily – was making their economies go... Cuckoo, to put it mildly. But the American hadn't expected the blazing fury with which he was met. They shook him, and screamed at him, and someone even slapped him once. With great difficulty, America managed to escape their clutches. His apologies fell on deaf ears. And his explanations were met with incredulous outrage. They could _comprehend_ , he supposed, they just couldn't _accept_. "Are you an idiot?" Someone snapped. And a few murmurs of agreement echoed in the room. "How could you possibly think it was going to last, you imbecile?"

America really had no answer what-so-ever for this question. What could he say? It wasn't _his_ fault. And what he thought or not didn't really matter in the great scheme of things. If his people did something, it wasn't the same as he doing it. They _knew_ that. They just wanted to blame someone – and he was the perfect scapegoat in this situation.

It wasn't even as if they were living the worst of it. **He** was. It was _his_ country and _his_ people that were suffering the most. And the other Nations complained about this or that or _whatever_ as if this was some kind of woe-fest. Truthfully, the American was sick of these guys attitude. They were just a bunch of old Nations who couldn't-

"What was the name of it, again? _Black Thursday_ *? When your people were so fucking done with you that they jumped out of the roof-tops?"

Now, _that_ made America snap. No one – _no one_ – made fun of something as serious as _his people dying_ in front of him. No, _sir_. Not on his goddamn watch. With a blood-curling scream (or so he liked to believe, England and France had both agreed it had sounded more like a shrill of outrage) the blond-haired American charged.

Punch. Left. Right. Kick. Bite. Hook. Punch. Bite. Bite _harder_. One last kick. And then he gathered himself again and pulled away. With a broken nose and a twisted wrist for his courageous act, America stood tall among the silent Nations.

And then he high-tailed the hell out of there. Because there was a speck in his eye. And he had to take care of it before his eye got all swollen and _shit_.

He wasn't crying. He _wasn't_. Seriously, he _fucking_ wasn't, _damn it_.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders (in the future), fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Chapter Three:

He wasn't even _directly_ _involved_ , and – somehow – they still managed to find fault within his actions. Or inactions, as the case might be.

He had decided to stay away from all things European for a while. _Duh_ , _they were stupid unappreciative meanies_. Well, most of them, anyway. England was cool, most of the time... When he wasn't acting like a douche or, you know, a grouchy old man.

And he still thought that making Germany shoulder all the burden of the Great War hadn't been a smart move on their part. _At all_. It was going to bite them back in their rears sooner or later. America had dearly hoped it was _later_ , because he was very, very _busy_ right now. President Roosevelt* didn't let him slack, so he had _lots_ and _lots_ of paperwork to do.

But _nooo_. They had to go and screw it all up. _Again_. Seriously, didn't they realise how fucked up the moustache-guy* was? And didn't they learn from their mistakes? Well, _whatever_ , America wasn't getting involved in _that_ fuck-up. Nope. His people didn't want him to, thus...

HAH! No. Sorry, but no can do. And surely **not** after being called a 'coward' and an array of nasty names just for not wanting to get involved in their mess. Receiving threatening phone calls and letters, from both Axis and Allies, and even a voodoo doll, had freaked him out in the start ( _especially_ the voodoo doll), but he kinda got used to it with time. It all went to the trash before even touching his desk. Neat, right!?

Worrying his bottom lip, the American ignored the little twinge of guilt in his heart at the thought of leaving England on his own. They were _buddies_. Maybe not _all_ the time, but the Brit could be real nice when he wanted to.

No matter how bad he felt, though, America could do nothing. The XXth century saw a slight change in the way war was perceived as. Especially after WWI, of course. War = Bad things. Simple. Like mathematics. But did those guys on the other side of the ocean understand? Fuck, **no**.

And, just like he had said, he wasn't putting his ass on the line for those ungrateful ol' meanies _again_. No way. But... Well... He could send some stuff to England, right? Just to make sure he could hold on his own for a while.

With a big smile on his face, America dashed towards his boss office, blue eyes gleaming with happiness. "I know how we can help!" He all but screamed to the President. And, true to America's gut feeling that he was an awesome guy, Roosevelt smiled and simply asked: "How?"


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders (in the future), fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Chapter Four - Interlude I:

America hugged England as tight as he dared. The Englishman was thinner, so much so that the American feared he would not get back to his normal weight. And he looked tired beyond his years. It brought some tears to his eyes. But he was quick to hide them. After all, it would do him no good – England would only get pissed as all hell if he even suspected of America's thoughts. Pissed and trigger happy, most likely.

With a snort, America let go of his former caretaker. "Where is France?" He asked, first and foremost, as they fell in step with their bosses "Though he would be here with De Gaulle*"

"In Paris" England answered, then sneered in contempt "In some basement, probably. The stupid frog managed to get himself captured along with three other members of the Rebels" And with a lot more venom: "And one of my agents"

All America managed to say in response was a single 'oh'. Thankfully, England didn't seem very interested on his reaction, or lack thereof, as he appeared far more preoccupied in cursing the Frenchman in every single way and language he knew. Surprisingly, or not, there were a lot. America wasn't aware that the Englishman knew Igbo*.

At least, if he ever wished to spend some time in Nigeria, he already knew who to ask for company.

Getting antsier as they approached their destination, America made no move to hide his discomfort. England, noticing, rolled his eyes, but made sure to stand closer to the younger Nation. Such a baby, the Englishman thought. It wasn't as if they were discussing the United States active role on the War. They would just talk about... _Trade_.

But, perhaps, he was afraid his alternative would be turned down by the Prime Minister. This, he had no reason to fear. The English were in no position to deny help, in whatever form it came.

England would never say it out loud, but he was thankful the American had somewhat of a soft-spot for him. That, and the fact America did genuinely wish to help those in need and to fight for what was right and good. Silly as it sounded.

Where he got those ideals from, England had no idea – surely not from him. But he would be damned if he didn't appreciate a Nation that had more than just self-interest when extending a hand. "America" He called, seconds away from entering a room where their relationship would be all politics and trades and...

"Yeah?"

"...Thanks"

He didn't answer immediately, and England though he was going o be mature and understanding about it. _Not_. "You're welcome, Iggy!" The American smiled before running inside, giggling like a schoolyard.

Eyebrow twitching, the Englishman controlled his urge to yell and throw something heavy at the other man's head. Scowling, he followed. Stupid Americans and their stupid nicknames and stupid laughs and... _Stupid fucking big hearts and naïveté_.

 **God**. He hoped the American never changed.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders (in the future), fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Chapter Five - Interlude II:

France was a good – if a bit too handsy and colourful – guy, in America's opinion. He did not belong in the dirty cramped holding-cell they found him in. And he definitely did not deserve the treatment he got. It smelled like piss and shit... And... It had made the American gag when they opened the door. And France...! **God!**

There was none of the flair. And the hair was messy and oily and... The skin was dirty and torn and – _fuck_! – there was so much blood! That was not France. Couldn't be! But England headed straight to the frail being at the far end of the room. "Alfred" The Englishman called, looking over his should at the pale American "Leave"

The American knew exactly what the Englishman was asking of him. Privacy. France wouldn't like to be seen like that. And England would sucker-punch the first idiot who dared to look at Frenchman with the littlest hint of pity in their eyes. America would rather (a) not intrude in their moment and (b) not have any of the soldiers gasping for breath. So he left, and got all the other soldiers to leave as well.

Thankfully, for they were still at war, England soon came out. France was piggy-ridding on his back, clearly displeased if the scowl on his face was anything to go by. America felt his lips twitching upwards. They were cute – on a weird best-friends/arch-enemies kind of way.

"Ready to go?"

"If you mean kicking some bloody Nazi's arses, then _yes_ " England answered darkly, adjusting the Frenchman on his back. A slight snore let them know that France had gone out like a light.

"Just let me get rid of this frog and I'll be right behind you"

Eyes narrowed and gun on hand, his fingers twitched and America smiled " **Good** ". Those Germans would never know what fucking hit 'em.

(In the end, it was Russia who fucking hit 'em. And the Slavic Nation was mad as hell. Maybe someone didn't like to be back-stabbed. Then again, who did? England and America felt a little bit of sympathy for the Germanic brothers. Especially after taking in consideration it wasn't really _their_ fault that they got a lunatic for a boss. France was clearly enjoying the deep-shit Germany and Prussia were in. Sadistic frog.)

~o~

I know. There isn't much... Y'know... Going on. But fear not dear readers, shit will hit the fan soon enough. This is, as they say, the calm before the storm. Prepare the kleenex.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders, fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Chapter Six:

He was so stupid, so _freaking_ stupid.

 _STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID!_

Clawing at his sides 'til small beads of blood were drawn, America wondered if England had let him fall one too many times. Maybe… Maybe it was all England´s fault. Yeah. Yeah – It had to be, right? After all, all the others were thin and fine and liked. England could eat as much as he wanted to – and he was a fucking greedy **glutton** – and he did not gain one single pound on his skinny ass. And nobody ever bad-mouthed Canada, not in private and certainly not in public. Oh no, god-forbid dearest Canada is criticized in any single _fucking_ way. And don't even get him started on _Australia_.

America had done nothing wrong, had he? Not a thing, not a thing. He was good. He was. He was good. He helped his fellow Nations, even when there was little for him in it. He tried to do them right. And he hoped to make the world a better place… So why – outta all British ex-colonies – he turned out to be the unlovable _fat_ bastard of the bunch?

 **Fat.**

…Maybe that was the problem?

Trembling lips puling into a shaky smile, America got up from the corner of the room he had rolled himself into. Who knew… Maybe there was hope still. Right? He just had to lose some weight. And then everybody was gonna like him more.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders (in the future), fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Chapter Seven:

He hated them. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated.

God.

He just wished they would all die. Those dickheads and their funny fat jokes (not) and funky stares and general ass-hole-ness. Putting a whole hamburguer into his mouth, and masterfully ignoring the whispered jabs and the gagging sounds some made into his general direction, America wondered if Nations could die. But, most importantly, he was thinking about how would have to throw it all up as soon as he was on his room.


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders (in the future), fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Chapter Eigth:

He found a nice little site on the internet. There were tips about doing it better - doing it more efficiently. It did not take long, really, for America to be hooked; it was, in truth, very addictive. He had free pass to eat whatever he wanted as long as he threw up a few times a day. Better than those stupid diets he looked up at the start; they were boring and long and so restrictive!

There was one lil' thing that was still bothering America, though... He wasn't losing as much weight as he wanted to. His tummy still bothered him. And America was gonna be damned if he did not do something about it. So he started to go to the gym. Even though he got weaker and weaker (not that he really noticed it all that much) it was well worth it. He was on his path to slimness, and handsomenss and being likeble. It seemed worth it.

And then, one morning, he was puking his guts out all of a sudden and the world began to spin and he knew no more.


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Warnings** : Eatings disorders, fatphobia, curse words, no romance (as of yet).

~o~

 _The Top of the Worls is a Lonely Place_

Chapter Nine:

Oh god.

 _Oh god._

Oh god.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Oh god.

 **Oh god.**

He couldn't stop. He- He... Just... Couldn't.

Not now. Not anymore. Oh god. Please. Please.

Someone? Any...One? England? France? Can-

Oh, _no no no no no no no no no no no no no no_

The smell of bile hit his nose, and he controlled himself not to throw up. _Again_. How had he ended up like this? Oh… _Yeah_ … He knew, _alright_.

 **He just couldn't accept it.**

Wasn't he… Supposed… To be the _goddamn Hero_?

Heroes didn't end up like _this_. On their _knees_ … Unable to control their own freaking stomach… Throwing up all the food they ate. And… And… God, was that **blood?!** "England, England, Engl-"

 _Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me._

A new – disgusting – wave of puke fell from his mouth onto the floor. His boss was so gonna kill him 'cause of this mess. And he didn't wanna think about the First Lady. _God_. There was no way out, was there?

Big – hot, desperate, unsure – tears fell from cerulean blue eyes.

Oh god.

Oh god.

 _NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!_

… He could do it.

… He could get out of this.

…. No one had to know.

…. No one needed to know.

Yeah. America could fix this.

He was the Hero, after all… He didn't need to worry anyone. It was a silly little problem… He would fix it. And no one had to know. No one would ever know… He could do it.

 _Right?_


End file.
